Accidental Hero (aka, The Absentminded Ravenclaw)
by Nia River
Summary: ON HOLD. Freaky connections aside, does anyone else think it strange that Harry survived a Killing Curse with little more damage than a scar? Well, what if he hadn't come through so unscathed? And what if the other damage was more mental than physical?
1. The Sorting

**Posted**: 22 November, 2008

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: Finally, life has settled enough for me to have time to write. Unfortunately with the huge gap of time off, I've gotten a bit distant from my other two stories. Writer's block - argh! So I said to myself: "Self; what you need is something short and simple to get you back in the writing groove". So I brainstormed for a decent idea and finally decided to do a one-shot about a sort of 'not all there' version of Harry. Fate seemed to have other ideas though, because from that little prompt a whole slew of disjointed possibilities came to me.  
And this is the result:  
- an absentminded Ravenclaw Harry fic, where  
- though part of one whole story, each chapter could conceivable be read as a semi-separate one-shot, and  
- posts will not be in chronological story order but rather in whatever order my whim chooses to write them.  
Also, the relevance of the title will become apparent in future chapters.  
Hope you enjoy.

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**Title**: Accidental Hero (aka, The Absentminded Ravenclaw)

**Author**: Nia River

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Rating**: K

**Genre**: General/Humour

**Pairings:** Harry/Luna

**Summary**: Freaky connections aside, does anyone else think it strange that Harry survived a Killing Curse with little more damage than a scar? Well, what if he hadn't come through so unscathed? And what if the other damage was more mental than physical? This story is a look at a world where Harry is a little... kooky, odd, quirky, fey, daft... a few Knuts short of a Sickle. In other words: he's not all there.

**Also, please note**:  
- Whilst all part of the same story, most chapters may also be read individually as one-shots.  
- Chapters may not be posted in chronological order.  
- Nothing from the books HBP or DH (including the Horcruxes) will be included in my writing as I've only read up to OoTP.

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**Chapter 1 - The Sorting**

**Sun, 1/9/1991**

"Potter, Harry."

As the deputy headmistress announced the next student to be sorted a tide of whispers swept across the room. Necks across the hall craned, searching for a glimpse of their returning hero.

After a several seconds wait nobody stepped forward, and so Professor McGonagall, pursing her lips sternly, spoke again.

"Potter, Harry," she called, louder this time, "Would Harry Potter please step up to be sorted."

A sudden conversation started up near the middle of the line as a bushy haired girl could be seen rounding in a disturbingly McGonagall-like manner on a fellow first year, though he could not yet be seen from the audience.

"Your name is being called, now hurry up and get out there," she harangued before pushing the boy out of line and into the spotlight.

The messy haired waif blinked slowly around the room for a moment before seemingly becoming distracted by the enchanted ceiling, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his trousers – which, it was noticed, were inside out – and staring upward with a vacant expression.

Deciding this delay had gone on long enough, the Transfiguration teacher pasted on her sternest glare and strode over to the inattentive boy. The clacking of her boots echoed rather loudly through the quieting hall till she came to a stop before him.

"Mr Potter, that is quite enough lollygagging," she berated loudly to his face, "Take your place on the stool at once."

The boy in question seemed to blink rapidly as his gaze transferred from the ceiling to the severe witch before him and – showing not one ounce of good sense or self preservation – smiled dopily at the sight.

"Oh, hello there. Your ceiling is very pretty," he commented with oblivious happiness before asking, "Did you say something?"

Many a decade had Minerva McGonagall devoted to teaching children at Hogwarts and in that time she felt she had gained a strong ability to ferret out lies or deceptions of all kinds. And, looking down at her old favourite student's only child, she found no sign of either. Instead what she saw – and which caused her to lapse into rather worried and unbecoming gaping – was something quite unexpected.

The rest of the hall held its breath. From their point of view a new student had just dared to ignore the imposing Professor McGonagall's summons and then recklessly cheeked her to her very face. And so, all watched in breathless anticipation – in much the way as one helplessly, morbidly, watches a broom collision about to happen – as the deputy headmistress began to gape. They were all certain that she was simply angered beyond coherency and braced for the moment she regained her senses. Harry Potter or no, wizarding hero or no, there was no way the boy was getting out of this without a thorough lambasting and several detentions.

And so, naturally, they were all quite shocked when – upon ceasing her gawking – the Gryffindor head paused, softened her expression, politely repeated the sorting directions to the first year, and led him gently over to the stool with one hand on his shoulder.

After lowering the Sorting Hat over ebony hair and hazy, emerald green eyes – so like and yet unlike his mother's alert, piercing, emerald green – Minerva took a step back. Despite her lack of acknowledgment she was fully aware of the confused state of the remainder of the school. She ignored it because she had discovered something very significant. Though she was not the first to do so and certainly would not be the last, McGonagall had realised – staring at that expression of blithe, dazed confusion – that this child had not escaped Voldemort as unscathed as many had thought. It was painfully obvious to her that Harry Potter was no longer entirely sane.

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	2. The Goblet

**Posted**: 30 November, 2008

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: If anyone's confused by the seeming skip in time from last chapter, they obviously didn't read said chapter's author's note properly.  
P.S. Have decided the pairing will be Harry/Luna

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**The Goblet**

**Mon/Sat****, 31/10/1994**  
_(See A/N at bottom of page for day confusion)_

Before Albus Dumbledore could finish his speech something entirely unexpectedly happened. There was a flare of flames and another piece of parchment – a fourth one – was suddenly spit from the Goblet of Fire. With a speed that belied his age, the headmaster quickly plucked the scrap from the air. The hall was silent and all held their breath as the elderly wizard unfolded the paper and frowned deeply.

"Harry Potter," he called gravely, ignoring the sudden cacophony of whispered conversation, "Harry, please step forward."

After several long moments wherein the boy in question failed to appear Dumbledore swept his gaze down the Ravenclaw table. He sighed at what he saw and gave an awkward cough.

"Do any of his his housemates know where our absent Mister Potter has disappeared to this time?"

"Zis time?" Madame Maxime could be heard to question.

"Oh dear, not again," Flitwick muttered squeakily.

"Typical Potter," Snape snapped.

Dumbledore ignored the comments from the head table behind him as the fourth year Ravenclaws turned to a small blonde girl with overly large eyes, proceeding to have a hurried, whispered conversation. Noting the blonde girl's indifferent shrug, and the uncertain and clueless expressions on the fourth year faces, the old man gave an exasperated sigh – one that had become far too common since a certain boy hero took up residence at Hogwarts – and shook his head. Deciding it would be best to move things along he opened his mouth to speak.

"Never mind then. I shall catch up to Mister Potter at a later time," he announced, pocketing the fourth piece of parchment, "For now-"

*_Bang!_*

All eyes turned toward the doors of the Great Hall at the sound, watching as – after a few seconds pause – they slowly opened. Reactions throughout the room varied from confusion and annoyance (in the case of the foreign guests) to amusement, exasperation and longsuffering (on the part of Hogwarts usual occupants, who were by now far too used to such behaviour from the newcomer).

Tie askew, a bag over one shoulder and a thick tome held open against his chest, the misplaced Ravenclaw student finally graced the hall with his presence. All eyes watched as the boy stepped into the room, pouting in wounded confusion at the doors through which he had entered, and rubbing at a visible egg forming on his forehead. After a long moment he seemed to realise what had happened, which sadly took longer for him than it did most of the observers (they had deduced within seconds that that their supposed hero, absorbed in his current reading, had collided with the normally open doors). Finally though, Potter simply shook his head and turned back towards the hall. He had pulled his tome from his chest, raised it halfway up before him and taken two steps before seeming to notice the absolute attention he was receiving and coming to a halt.

"Er…" Harry blinked owlishly about the room, bewilderment plain on his features, "Did I miss something?"

A poignant pause followed until a muffled snicker from the Hufflepuff table broke the silence.

Once the laughter had finally settled down some, a cough from the front of the hall encouraged everyone to silence once more.

"Indeed you did Mr Potter," Dumbledore spoke, answering the student's question, "You missed the Goblet of Fire presenting the names of the Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang champions. Strangely however, the goblet then proceeded to announce a fourth champion… yourself."

The boy cocked his head to the side and raised a hand to ruffle his already messy hair

"Goblet?" he asked, staring rather intently at the headmaster's tasselled hat.

"Yes child," the old wizard nodded encouragingly, resting a hand on the object in question as he reiterated slowly, "It presented your name."

Harry paused then, head straightening before tilting in the opposite direction. Then, his green eyes dropped from Dumbledore's hat to follow the man's lime-green sleeved arm down to the where it rested on the Goblet of Fire. The boy then – upon setting his gaze on the artefact, which had been the central focus of everyone's intense attention and gossip for the past day – blinked rapidly, several times.

"Oh," he murmured, as though surprised, "Where did that come from?"

Groans and snickers enveloped the hall and Dumbledore sighed exasperatedly, yet again.

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**A/N**: Regarding the day: the book places the 31/10 on a Saturday, but according to the calendar, it's a Monday… does it really matter which?

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	3. The Duelling Club

**Posted**: 14 December, 2008

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

**Author's Note**: Apologies if I didn't respond to your review for the last chapter. I usually try to respond to everyone - seems only fair since they took the time to review in the first place - but I really wanted to get this chapter up. Hopefully I'll have time to go back and type out some replies later. For now, enjoy!

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**Chapter 3 – The Duelling Club**

**Thu, 17/12/1992**

"It's all right children, I'm all right!" Lockhart assured the snickering boys and fretting girls, climbing back onto the platform, "It was intentional. As… er… as a… demonstration! Yes, a demonstration. So that you could all see just what effect a disarming charm has when it reaches its target."

"Oh, the professor is so clever," cooed a blonde girl.

"And brave, taking the curse like that," agreed a brunette witch.

The DADA professor threw his cloak dramatically over one shoulder and sent a dazzling – but appropriately modest – smile at the two. The majority of the female students present sighed dreamily. The male students were mostly torn between disgust and exasperation.

At the opposite end of the platform, the gloomy Potions professor merely sneered, before giving a pointed cough.

"Professor Snape, my good man! Is that a cold you're coming down with? I only ask because I just happen to know an ingenious spell – was in fact crucial to its invention, you might say. The incantation is _Koffnoemoorus_ and it-"

"That will not be necessary," the dark wizard interrupted sharply, "Back to the point of the meeting however; perhaps the students ought also to learn the Shielding Charm?"

The man grinned widely at the suggestion – as though oblivious of the condescending malice that dripped from his 'assistant' teacher's words – and switched topics immediately.

"Shielding Charm? Why yes, that's simply a splendid idea! In fact, I was just about to suggest the same thing."

"I'm sure," Snape drawled, "Shall we begin on three then?"

Perhaps the pretentious celebrity was not quite so oblivious after all, and noticed the way his colleague's fingers twitched almost convulsively toward his wand before pulling back – or perhaps he just didn't fancy being blown across the room again. Either way, he hurriedly suggested they instead 'give the students a go', and turned to the audience for volunteers.

As the fop began looking over the students, Professor Snape noticed one of his snakes trying to attract his attention. Turning his head ever so slightly, he raised an inquiring eyebrow. Draco Malfoy – the student in question – pointed first at himself then mouthed 'Potter'.

The Slytherin head resisted the urge to either roll his eyes, groan or grimace. When would his star Potions student give up on his transparent attempts to gain the boy-who-lived's attention? Really, it was beginning to get embarrassing. Nevertheless, he nodded and turned to his fellow teacher, sneering at the way he was making a great production of his simple task.

"Might I suggest, Malfoy and Potter?"

As expected the greedy celebrity's eyes lit up at the thought of teaching the two – the boy who defeated Voldemort, as well as the son of the influential Lucius Malfoy – their very first Shielding Charms.

In seconds the blonde boy was up on the platform and – as people were coming to expect – the brunette was being rather difficult to find.

"Harry? Harry, my boy," the defence instructor called loudly and familiarly, "Where are you? Come on up!"

The murmur of voices in the hall rose as everyone wondered where he had gotten to this time. After a few moments though, attention was drawn to the rustling of a Christmas tree. As all watched, two students clambered down from within the branches and emerged from the greenery.

"Luna, why'd we have to come down?" asked a ruffled looking Harry, "It was fun up there with you and the mistletoe."

Several witches – mostly Ravenclaws – squealed in what most of the wizards present found to be a disturbing fashion. Soon after the Lovegood girl had arrived, many of the girls at Hogwarts had decided she and Harry Potter were obviously 'made for each other'. Thusly, they were quite happy with this development. As Luna leaned over and delicately plucked a stray pine-needle from her friend's hair, a few even burst into song.

"Harry and Luna, sitting in a tree," sang one.

"Literally," chimed another.

"K-i-s-s-i-n-g!" several chorused.

Having smiled dopily at the singing thus far, Harry paused and blinked before tilting his head toward Luna.

"I wasn't k-i-s-s-i-n-g any of them. Were you?"

"Not even on the lips," she said and shook her head as the audience seemed to frown as they contemplated that statement.

"Perhaps I should have. Did they want me to?" the boy asked considering, turning back toward the Christmas tree.

"No!" Luna yelled, grabbing his arm to hold him back as her bulbous eyes became even wider than normal, "You may get infected with the Mischievous-Thiefiness Disease. Besides, didn't the colourful Defence professor and kind Potions Master say you were supposed to be up there?"

"Oh, okay."

Harry then docilely allowed his friend to lead him over to the duelling platform, finding another needle on his sleeve and twirling it absently between his fingers. As he made his way across the hall, several reactions could be spotted.

For his part, Professor Snape was glaring at the small blonde girl – to little effect – as well as any other students – to very great effect – who dared laugh at the girl calling him kind.

Lockhart was torn, clearly not sure how to take the 'colourful' comment – compliment, insult, or the inane ramblings of a crazy person. He seemed to decide on the latter, as he ignored it entirely.

The unofficial 'Harry and Luna Fan Club' was frowning in obvious confusion at what they had heard. Was their favourite not-couple being couple-y up that tree, or not? Finally, as the duo walked past one particularly dense cluster of these strange witches, one decided to ask for clarification.

"So there was no kissing?" the girl – a sixth year Ravenclaw named Beth – stepped forward to ask.

"Of course not," Luna said, pausing them both to answer the question, "We could catch Mischievous-Thiefiness Disease."

"No k-i-s-s-i-n-g either," Harry added helpfully, singing the word to the 'sitting in a tree' tune.

"What is Mischievous-Thiefiness Disease?" Beth asked.

"You catch it," the Lovegood girl informed her earnestly, "From kissing Nargles. It makes you prone to fits of mischief and thievery."

"Nargles?"

"Mistletoe sprites."

"And why," Beth questioned, wondering why she was even bothering, "Would you catch Mischievous-Thiefiness Disease from Nargles?"

The pair before her paused and stared at her with twin expressions of bewilderment. They then – in rather creepy unison – glanced at one another with what seemed to be 'is she serious?' expressions, before facing forward again.

"Because," Luna enunciated slowly, as though talking to a rather dim child, "Nargles are mischievous thieves."

Beth blinked at the seemingly obviously explanation and muttered a dumb "oh". Then, as she retreated back into the crowd of her year mates, Snape's voice pierced the air.

"We are waiting, Mr Potter," he reprimanded sharply.

Quickly, Luna hurried her friend forward and within moments was pushing him up onto the duelling platform, where Gilderoy Lockhart then proceeded to demonstrate – with highly questionable accuracy – just how the Shielding Charm was done.

"Now dear children – you may begin on the count of three."

"Scared Potter?" Malfoy attempted to taunt his opponent.

"Oh, hullo Draco," said opponent replied absently as though he'd just been greeted politely, sending a calm smile toward his year-mate which caused the blonde to narrow his eyes.

"One!" Lockhart called loudly.

"I'm about to humiliate you in front of the whole school, scar-head. Soon everyone will know how much better than you I am."

Harry just smiled and nodded at his would-be nemesis, uttered a vacant "Oh, alright then," and turned his attention back to twirling his pine needle.

"Two!"

"Damn it Potter, look at me when I'm talking at you!" the Slytherin second year hissed angrily.

The Malfoy's heir's frustration brought a flush to his cheeks, a fact which the Potter boy – gazing absentmindedly about the hall – happened to notice. And comment on.

"That's a very pretty pink in your cheeks," the Ravenclaw commented, with genuine if hazy admiration, "How do you make then that colour?"

At that comment, several things happened almost at once.

Firstly, Draco Malfoy's cheeks deepened to a dark red, his brows knitted deeply and a growl emerged from his lips. Secondly, Harry Potter raised his fingers to poke at his own cheeks, as though attempting to achieve the 'pretty pink' colour himself. Thirdly, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart gave a drawn-out and overly dramatic "aaaannnnnddd…". Next, the Ravenclaw boy realised that in poking his cheeks he had dropped his pine needle, and so bent down to retrieve it just as – finally, the Slytherin boy decided to jump the count and send a Disarming Charm as the source of his anger.

Unfortunately for the young Slytherin, the spell left his wand just as Harry began to lean forward, and so sailed right over the boy-who-lived's head… where it hit a random student in the crowd… who was promptly disarmed… and whose wand flew toward Draco who – surprised at missing his target – forgot to catch. Due to his inattention the wand thwacked him firmly in the nose before clattering to the ground at his feet.

Silence reigned for a moment until the oblivious Ravenclaw opponent straightened up once more with a happy hum. Pine needle now retrieved, the boy proceeded to twirl the greenery between the fingers of one hand as the other returned to poking his cheek, until his gaze landed on Malfoy. Or rather Malfoy's feet.

"Oh," he asked, "Did you drop your wand Draco? There's one beside your toe."

And the silence was immediately broken, as student's fell into hysterical laughter at the convoluted scene they had just witnessed. In the background Professor Snape was torn between sneering at the idiot child of his school nemesis and sighing wearily at his supposed star pupil, wondering just where the Malfoy heir had gone wrong. Secretly he suspected the inbreeding was finally beginning to leave a mark. Of course if questioned openly he would blame Potter.

The Slytherin second year however, was thoroughly incensed. How in Merlin's name did this boy – so obviously a feebleminded halfwit – continue to embarrass him so? Angry beyond reason he gave an impressive snarl and raised his wand, firing at the bane of his existence the first curse that came to mind.

"Serpensortia!" he screamed.

Given the bedlam that followed, the precise order of events is uncertain. What is certain is that Professor Lockhart – in a stupid attempt to restore order – raised his wand to banish the black snake that had appeared on the platform. Also certain, is that the spell must have been miscast, as the reptile instead swelled to several time it's size. It is believed that it was at this stage – as the conjured animal began hissing threateningly – that Harry Potter finally noticed its presence. Then to the shock of all present, the young wizard tilted his head to one side and _hissed_ back. Screams, wails and gasps of 'Parseltongue' abounded.

Meanwhile the giant snake seemed to be becoming increasingly agitated as its conversation with the human continued. Then, before much more could be said by the crowd – or a lynch mob formed – it suddenly lunged toward the boy, and sunk its fangs deeply into flesh.

Further screams echoed about, this time the fear not only _at_ the messy-haired second year, but also _for_ him. Professor Snape hurriedly sent a curse to stun the snake and gave it an assessing glance. He cursed colourfully enough at what he found to make some of the first year girls blush, before shrinking and banishing the creature, then striding hurriedly toward the his least favourite student to give aid, despite his desire to do otherwise.

For his part, Harry's eyes were wide with confusion as his limbs began to feel heavy and weak and a pain emanated from his left calf. Lowering himself clumsily to the floor, he watched though eyes even cloudier than normal as his Potions teacher banished the serpent then knelt beside him. As a bandage emerged form the wizard's wand to wrap about his leg, two others approached. His vision had begun to blur, so he wasn't positive who they were. He suspected though that the bright turquoise one was Professor Lockhart, and the dirty blonde coloured one scrambling onto the platform was his friend Luna.

Harry only had time to mumble one confused sentence before he drifted into unconsciousness, everything going dark.

..ooOOoo..

"Walter, did you hear?" asked the gossipy voice of a witch, who had just entered the Ravenclaw common room with a group of friends.

"Hear what?" questioned a tall, skinny sixth year boy sitting one of the large study tables, "And shove off; you're sitting on my Potions homework."

"Oh, sorry."

"She means," said another of the newly arrived girls, "Did you hear what happened at the Duelling Club?"

"No. Why?"

"Where have you been?" the first voice asked, "Hiding under rock? It's all anyone was talking about at dinner."

"Oi! That's not fair Beth. I've been working on that research paper for Charms all evening – didn't go to the club or to dinner. You know Professor Flitwick said he'd recommend me to the Experimental Charms Department after school if I do well in it."

"Okay, okay. Fair enough. But you really ought not to skip meals like that," she chided, "Every Ravenclaw knows that proper, regular sustenance is vital to a healthy and agile mind."

"Yes, yes, I know. So, what happened?"

"Well, you won't believe it," she said, tone turning gossipy once more, "But it turns out Harry Potter is a _Parselmouth_."

"No!" the wizard gasped.

Walter glanced questioningly at the others but they all nodded wide-eyed in confirmation. Seeing that the young man was starting to believe, Beth went on to explain the duel with Malfoy: how Harry had irritated the Slytherin by admiring his 'pretty pink cheeks', how Malfoy's disarming spell had backfired, how in anger he had resorted to the Serpensortia Curse, how Proffessor Lockhart's banishing charm had mysteriously failed and instead caused the snake to grow, and how Potter had started hissing at it.

"B-but, everyone knows that's a dark ability. What if- what if his loony personality is all a trick? What if he's really here with nefarious purposes? What if he's the Heir of- ow! Beth, what'd you do that for?"

"Because," she said, glaring along with her friends at the pouting Walter, as he rubbed the back of his head, "You clearly needed a smack upside the head if you're thinking such utterly ridiculous hippogriff cr-"

"Language," chided Abby, the most proper of the gaggle of girls and the others' eyes rolled in a longsuffering manner.

"Cravats; Hippogriff cravats," Beth finished as though that was what she was going to say all along, and Abby nodded approvingly, "About poor dear Harry."

"Hippogriff cravats?" snorted another of the witches, but was ignored.

"But you said he was a Parselmouth. How can you be sure he's not evil? There's overwhelming precedent, you know."

"Because the snake he was talking to got really angry looking until finally…" she paused dramatically and even her friends who had been there leaned forward anticipatorily, "It _bit_ him!"

Walter gaped. A Parselmouth getting bitten by a snake? Surely not. But still, perhaps it was…

"At trick?" he suggested cautiously, "Could it have been a trick? A ruse to fool us?"

Heads were rapidly shaken from side to side.

"No," Beth said definitely.

"Come now, be reasonable. We're Ravenclaws not Hufflepuffs; we must at least consider the possibility."

"We did," asserted Abby, "But for one it was a highly poisonous serpent. If Professor Snape hadn't been there he may well have died. It was still a close thing as it was."

"Plus," another of the witches chimed in, "Well when we heard what he said…"

"Said?" the wizard asked and the girls all nodded.

"It was a little noisy in the Great Hall, so we didn't hear it directly," Beth told him, "But I heard from Francine in Hufflepuff, who heard from Lucy in Gryffindor, who heard from her little brother Luke – who was standing right beside the platform – that before he fell unconscious, Harry Potter managed to tell the Professors why the snake bit him."

"And?" Walter asked, "How does this prove that he's not dark?"

"Because, what he said was…" Beth paused and again all leaned forward, "'I just told him he might look good in pink too – and offered to change his colours if he wanted'."

..ooOOoo..

Perhaps if things were different the revelation of Harry Potter possessing the despised Parseltongue ability would have turned most of the students against him – especially with the recent attacks fresh in everyone's minds. In another world, all but his most loyal friends may have turned on their boy hero and labelled him dark, or perhaps even the Heir of Slytherin himself. The school population could have begun to fear him.

As it was however, word of the boy-who-lived's bewildered explanation to Professor Snape spread quickly throughout the school. In the other three common rooms, as well as dorms, the Great Hall, classrooms and various corridors, similar conversation to the one between Walter, Beth and friends took place.

The consensus was fairly unanimous. The Harry Potter they had come to know was not a ruse. Nor was he the Heir of Slytherin, or an evil mastermind of any sort. Indeed, despite his unfortunate talent it was fairly obvious to all that the boy was still as obliviously loopy and ironically well meaning as ever.

..ooOOoo..

Harry awoke healed in the hospital wing the next morning to a slightly red-eyed Luna Lovegood, mountains of candy and many dozens of get-well-soon cards. For reasons the boy didn't quite understand, many of the latter included notes recommending that perhaps he should refrain in the future, from offering to turn serpents pink. After consulting with Luna he was somewhat less perplexed, she having explained that pink was not at all a 'snakely' colour, and he should instead have offered purple with green spots.

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	4. The Fizzy Frizbees

**Posted**: 17 May, 2009

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

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**Chapter 4 – Fizzy Frizbees?**

**Fri, 7/11/1991**

"Where's Stephen?" Mandy Brocklehurst asked, with a bored sigh.

It was a Friday afternoon and classes were finally over. Four friends – Mandy, Morag, Kevin and Stephen – had arranged to meet by the lake to relax and throw breadcrumbs at the giant squid. Unfortunately, they seemed to have forgotten the important part where someone actually had to bring some bread crumbs along, and so instead they were simply lazing about aimlessly.

"We traded him in?" Kevin suggested, pointing a finger at the boy sitting beside him, gazing dreamily at the clouds.

"Kevin," she gently rebuked.

"Sorry, sorry. Nah, I saw Harry heading for the library and decided to drag him along," he said, and the green-eyed boy looked over at the mention of his name, "Even for a Ravenclaw, you spend far too much time in there kiddo."

The boy in question just smiled distractedly and turned his attention away again. This time he focussed upon the tree whose shade they were resting in, and seemed to start up an engrossing conversation with the bark covered trunk.

"Hmm, he is looking a bit pale," Mandy conceded, giving the Potter child a concerned glance as he paused, as though letting the tree respond, before resuming speech.

"Whatever," Morag said with a dismissive snort at Harry's actions, "Kevin still hasn't explained where Stephen is."

"Dunno," the hazel-eyed boy shrugged, "You girls were one of the first ones out of Transfiguration, but Stephen was dawdling so I waited for him. I didn't see what exactly he did, but it made Padma squeal and slap him, and then McGonagall said he had to stay behind for detention."

"Stephen peeked at her knic-kers," Harry suddenly sung loudly without turning around.

The words caused the others to jump in surprise, and then blush. It was a known fact that Stephen Cornfoot was a pervert. His friends however generally ignored that fact, being that most of his actions and comments were lost on their comparatively innocent minds. Sometimes however, he did something so blatantly obvious that even they could not miss the meaning. Now was one such time, and so an awkward silence fell over the group.

Turning around in confusion at the sudden halt in conversation, Harry gave a perplexed look. Then he paused and tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, before smiling and drawing a brown paper bag from his pocket, which he then held out to the nearest person.

"Fizzy wizzy?"

"It's a Fizzing Whizzbee," Morag MacDougal snapped out the correction, ignoring the offering.

It was clear from the vexed tone of her voice that this was not the first time the dark-haired girl had corrected Harry Potter on this topic. In fact, judging by the highly irritated expression she sported, Morag had been forced to make such corrections numerous times before.

"Yes, that's right," he replied, blinking in honest confusion, "Izzy Frizbee."

"No, you little nincompoop!" she groaned, and the others around her snickered in amusement, the awkward silence fading, "They're Fizzing Whizzbees. Fiz-zing Whiz-bee."

"Oh Morag," chided Mandy, being the more patient and kind-hearted of the two girls, "Leave him be. We all know what he means."

"Try it again," Morag insisted, ignoring her friend, "Fiz-zing Whiz-bee. Fiz-zing Whiz-bee. Now you try."

Harry gave a vaguely perplexed look to Kevin, who had leaned forward to accept one of the sweets despite the dirty look MacDougal threw him for doing so. To the green-eyed boy he simply shrugged, before popping one of the sherbets in his mouth and beginning to levitate. Smiling widely at the sight, the bespectacled boy dug into the bag himself. Unfortunately however, just before the sweet reached his lips he was interrupted.

"Well? Say it!"

"Morag, be nice. I know you're a bit touchy, what with your Uncle Carson having invented them and all but-"

"I'll be nice when he get's it right Mandy. I don't care if it takes me till the end of seventh year. I _will_ teach him to say it properly! Now say it Potter. Say Fizzing Whizzbee. That's Fiz-zing Whiz-bee."

Giving his treat a mournful look and throwing an envious glance at the still floating Kevin, Harry sighed and lowered the sugary goodness, before turning his attention back to the strangely irrational girl seated beside him.

"Fiz-zing, Whiz-" he began, and Morag's expression brightened in anticipation, "-ablees."

And the bright expression fell, as the dark-haired girl gave a frustrated sound, somewhere between a moan and a scream.

"Morag? Where are you going?" Mandy asked with concern.

"Who cares," Kevin asked as he finally drifted back to the ground, leaning forward to get more sherbets, "That was dead funny, that was."

"I am going," the fuming girl called over her shoulder, as she headed across the lawn back toward the castle, "Somewhere far away, before I find myself trying to smack some sense into that half-wit!"

"Oh," the remaining girl whispered, chewing nervously on one of her blonde curls, "Will she be alright, do you think? Or should I-"

"She'll be fine. Just let her cool off some. You know how she gets."

"I suppose."

For the second time, silence fell over the group. Harry looked at the once more floating Kevin enviously, before popping a sherbet in his own mouth and then smiling dopily as he too began levitating. Seeing that the remaining member of the now smaller group was being left out, he held the brown paper bag down toward her.

"No thank you Harry," she said shaking her head, "I prefer my feet on the ground."

The messy haired child pouted and looked down at his bag, before looking up and holding it toward her once more. She frowned in confusion and almost went to decline a second time. Her words halted however, at the vaguely mischievous light that seemed to have entered those usually hazy green eyes. There was a pause, and then-

"Have a Fizzing Whizzbee?" Harry asked with an impish smile.

"Did he just-" Kevin asked, head whipping around and mouth falling agape.

"I think so," Mandy replied faintly, hand automatically accepting a sweet and popping it in her mouth.

..ooOOoo..

Just as she reached the doorway to the castle, Morag MacDougal paused, the sound of sudden laughter resounding from behind her. Spinning around, she looked toward the lakeside and saw Kevin rolling in the air cackling hysterically, whilst Mandy floated looking dazed, and Potter … she paused and squinted at the sight, before shaking her head and turning away. She must have been mistaken. There was no Merlin-blessed way that that featherbrain could have been sporting such a clear expression of shrewd smugness. Perhaps she should make a stop at the Hospital Wing, to get her eyes checked. Yes, she would do that.

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